


I'd Rather Be Watching Jeopardy

by Focaccia_Bread



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, But Haru doesn't want to be an accidental pedo, Crack, Gen, Haru doesn't care about your magical destiny bonds between Gen1 and Gen10, Haru is friends with all of the old ladies, Haru wishes she was a cloud but lightning is ok too, Haru's dad is so confused, Karma's a bitch, Kyoko is an MMA fighter, Like an old lady is the reincarnated protagonist kind of crack, Old people die sometimes, Reborn ships Tsuna with Haru, Ryohei is the world's first boxing ninja, Sentai Programs solve everything, Teenagers aren't the only people who die, Tsuna doesn't understand anything anymore, Why would you need to remember the plot?, so much crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Focaccia_Bread/pseuds/Focaccia_Bread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethel had been around the block- 89 years will do that to a body.  She didn't expect to be reborn, especially in a world she vaguely remembered from her grandson's t.v. on the rare times that he visited her at the retirement home.  Wasn't there something about magical babies? -Fuck it, she was a grown woman and didn't need no plot. (OC-reborn into Haru)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cause of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. 
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warnings: Brief mention of homophobia in this chapter, character death (duh?) and callous reaction to death.

 

Some people get confused if the sentence doesn't end as they potato. That's kind of how she felt at the moment.

 

The last thing Ethel remembered was eating lunch at the retirement home. Well, for a given value of remembered. There wasn't a lot that she remembered nowadays. She was old, that sort of thing could be forgiven. But where was she? Oh, yes. Retirement home. Lunch. Something about pudding? She wished she could have regular pudding instead of this sugar free crap. Doctors wouldn't let her. The doctors like to hear themselves talk. Sometimes mindlessly staring at the floor was more interesting than their babble. That probably didn't help in their assessments of her, but fuck it. She was a grown woman, and didn't need no doctors. 

 

She'd keep the sugar-free pudding cups though. Those were surprisingly tasty. It seemed like forever since she'd last had some decent pudding.

 

Actually, speaking of doctors, now that she thought about it, didn't she have one near her before she ended up... wherever this was? Cheapskates didn't feel the need to turn on the lights or switch the bulbs in here. It was way too dark, in her opinion.

 

Oh well. As long as it didn't interfere with her programs. Jeopardy was supposed to be on soon. Her fingers were itching to cross "lunch" off of her to-do list, though. 

 

Now where was she again, and why was it so cold?

 

~*************~

 

"Hello?" Cheryl Ono answered the phone distractedly. 

Her son was trying to convince her that he had already finished his homework (her mother senses were tingling that it was a load of bull), and her daughter was trying to climb up the counter to reach a package of Oreos. Thankfully, her wife Haru had taken over the pan with the spinach and garlic in it before it burned, otherwise they wouldn't have anything to go with the lamb on the grill and bread in the oven. 

 

"Mrs. Ono? -This is Charlie Renner from Autumn Leaves Retirement Home. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you and your family."

 

Cheryl paused for a moment. Her shoulders shuddered, and then she blurted out, "Is she dead?"

 

There was an awkward silence from the phone. Finally, there was a cough. "Um. Yes. Your mother passed away almost an hour ago. I'm sorry for your loss." 

 

Even though it was loud in the kitchen (Haru was stirring the spinach while trying to convince Emi that no, Oreos were not an acceptable appetizer and Alex was banging every book in his backpack against the countertop in protest of doing his work), her mind had blocked it all out. There was silence. There was clarity of thought and the words, "Thank god," slipped out. 

 

Now the silence on the other end of the phone was judgemental, instead of merely uncomfortable. 

 

"I mean, thank goodness she isn't suffering anymore. Um." Cheryl tried to think of what might need to be done, and how not to sound like even more of a heel than she just did. "Thank you for letting me know. Is there anything that needs to be taken care of right away?" Morbidly, she added, "How did she die?" At those words, everyone in the kitchen froze and stared at her. She waved her hands to show that she had everything under control, and they went back to what they were doing (albeit more quietly, in order to eavesdrop). 

 

Although still judgemental, Charlie clearly sounded more comfortable with the subject change. "Well, you need to swing on by and collect her things. Her funeral needs to be arranged, and her will needs to be activated. Aside from that, the head of staff can discuss things with you more in depth when you get here."

 

It didn't escape her notice that the subject of her mother's death had been avoided. "How did she die?" Cheryl repeated. 

 

"There isn't kind way to say this," the voice on the phone warned her. "Are you sure you don't want to hear this in person?"

 

"Yes." She was sure. She needed to know.

 

"Your mother's airways were obstructed during lunch, and we were unable to effectively clear them," Charlie said somberly. 

 

"She was on a liquid diet! How could she choke to death?!" Cheryl exclaimed. 

 

"She, ah, managed to, um, appropriate some food from the person sitting next to her. Upon swallowing, some of it, ah, ended up in her lungs, causing her to... choke." There was the sound of some shuffling papers.

 

"It was pudding, wasn't it," Cheryl flatly stated.

 

The silence on the other end didn't refute it. 

 

Cheryl sighed. "I'll be in first thing tomorrow morning to settle her affairs. Is that alright?"

 

"More than fine. Again, I'm sorry for your loss. If you or your family wants, we do have counseling services available. Goodnight."

 

"Goodnight." Cheryl clicked off the phone, and ran her hand through her short blonde hair. She sighed, looked at her wife and said, "Well, we don't have to support the Wicked Witch of the West anymore. We might be able to take that vacation you wanted anyway."

 

Haru face twisted in half-joy, half-despair. "I know it's wrong of me, but-"

 

Cheryl hugged her tightly. "I know. Me too. It was Mom's choice to cut ties, and I wouldn't trade you or the kids for the world. I love you." Haru gave her a small smile and pecked her lips. 

 

"Ewww! Mama's kissing mom in the kitchen again!" Alex whined halfheartedly. 

 

Cheryl grinned. "Does that mean you want mama and mommy to kiss you in the kitchen instead, buster?" Alex's eyes widened dramatically as he shook his head frantically. 

 

It was so cute how he was trying to defend his masculine pride at the extremely old age of twelve. 

 

As the sounds of her family surrounded her, Cheryl took a brief moment to think about her mom. How her mom had been there for her when she was small, but how she had retracted her love when she found out Cheryl had met the love of her life in another woman. She thought of how the Alzheimers had made her mean, and say things that almost shattered her self-esteem. She thought of the medical bills that the combination of the nursing home, insulin, and medicine for her mom's thyroid pills caused. She sighed, and let it all go.

 

Ethel had left Cheryl's life a long time ago. Death didn't really change much, except for lowering the bills.

 

*****~***********~

In another world, a young couple beamed at their doctor as they found out that in a few months, they'd be adding to their small family. 

 

They had no idea how strange that addition would end up being. 

 

*~*****~

Death is caused by swallowing small amounts of saliva over a long period of time. ~Attributed to George Carlin

Next Chapter: You Gave Me the Worst Name Ever


	2. You Gave Me the Worst Name Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miura Daisuke and Hitomi attempt to deal with their squalling infant (to limited success). Ethel clings to denial for longer than absolutely necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a kudos, as well as all those who gave this story a chance! You guys are awesome! :D
> 
> Notes: Head-cannon alert! I think that cannon!Haru took after her mom in both looks and personality, so I just blew up her character until suddently she became this nutso Osaka housewife. I'm having way too much fun with her, haha. That being said, she uses some Kansai, which I've dropped liberally in here. 
> 
> I'm not about to drop Japanese every other word, but I'm not going to pretend that this is taking place in America, either, so expect some Japanese culture shock. Suffixes included.
> 
> By the way, "Last Friends" is an actual Japanese drama series; it was pretty cool. Same with Kamen Rider. 
> 
> I picked Haru's dad's name randomly, and Hitomi is the name of Haru's voice actress in the anime. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Musume: Daughter  
> Okaa-han: Kansai version of saying mom/okaa-san  
> Chau: Kansai slang, generally means no/wrong  
> Well, so-so, y'know: The second half of a traditional greeting in Osaka.
> 
> Warnings: Homophobia (Ethel is a nasty old hag), racism (seriously, she needs character development asap), babies cry, Kansai dialect is used liberally, and hateful thoughts. Also, pudding trauma. That’s officially a thing now.  
> ************************************************************

Miura Daisuke had worked long and hard to become a mathematics professor at Namimori’s local college. Every day he was surrounded by formulas, numbers, and barcodes, as well as a diverse range of students. Math didn’t come to him naturally, but he loved it almost as much as his family, and worked endlessly to improve himself at his chosen career. Even so, numbers still confused him on occasion.

 

That being said, it was slightly worrying that the women in his life confused him more than his job.

 

************Three months old*************

 

Hitomi had been the one to pick out her daughter’s name. She had always wanted to have an adorable name for an adorable child.

 

Daisuke thought that his daughter’s name sounded bold, but cheerful. He hoped that she grew up to resemble her name.

 

As for Haru? Well. Every time Daisuke and Hitomi addressed their daughter by her given name, she screamed. Eventually, for the sake of their eardrums, they began to use endearments instead.

 

*************Four Months Old*************

 

“Musume! Open wide for okaa-han!” Miura Hitomi implored her daughter, while holding out a spoon filled with freshly pureed bananas.

 

She hoped that her daughter enjoyed the new food- she wanted to wean Haru-chan off of breast milk as soon as possible. Wet spots on her bras were not comfortable.

 

‘Haru-chan’ took one look at the soft, creamy spoonful of baby food and shrieked in fear.

 

*************Seven months Old**************

“Hahi! Don’t change the channel!” Hitomi practically screeched.

 

Daisuke allowed himself to be bodily dragged away from the couch where his adorable Haru seemed to be taking a nap on his armchair, while some sort of trivia show played on the t.v.

 

“Haha, hello to you too, honey,” Daisuke chuckled as he leaned over to give her a peck on the lips.

 

Hitomi smiled involuntarily before she visibly shook herself. “Daisuke, I know that Kamen Rider is on soon-”

 

Despite himself, Daisuke blushed.

 

“-but trust me, we can’t change the channel yet,” she finished. In a softer voice, she muttered, “Maybe once this episode is finished?”

Daisuke, never one to keep his opinion to himself, asked the obvious question. “Why not?”

 

Hitomi gave him the wide-eyed stare of a prisoner that had been kept awake for days in a cell filled with sex offenders. “Haru doesn’t sleep. She waits.”

“...” Daisuke said eloquently.

 

“I don’t know how she figured out the buttons, but every time I tried to take the remote away, she cried! Finally, I decided that it wasn’t too bad for her development to watch those-” she waved her hands dramatically at this part, “-trivia shows, but then ‘Last Friends’ was about to come on, and I saw she had her eyes closed, but when I tried to change the channel she screamed like I was murdering her! Yoshida-san from next door came by to see if there was an intruder!”

 

Daisuke couldn’t contain a giggle-snort at that.

 

“It isn’t funny, hahi!”

 

At that, he outright chuckled. He gathered his increasingly flustered wife into his arms and began to pet her hair. Although she bristled like an alley cat, she soon slumped forward and grudgingly accepted the affectionate touch.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m a terrible mother.”

 

She seemed to be nearing tears. Daisuke did the only thing he knew how to do.

 

“As parents, I think we are… well, so-so, y’know.”

 

Hitomi glared at him. Daisuke smiled serenely and continued to pet her hair.

 

************One Year Old*************

"O-KA-HAN!

 

"..."

 

"O~KAA~ HA~N!"

 

"..."

 

"...Hitomi, I know it's late but she'll start speaking when she's rea-

 

"Chau! I don't care if she's late in talking, but her first word will be okaa-han if it kills me, hahi!"

 

Haru continued to stare blankly at her mother....

 

Then she loudly sharted.

 

As Hitomi started gagging from the stench, Daisuke looked at his wife and did his manly duty.

 

"A-ah, haha, I think I forgot some of my students' papers in the car! So many papers to grade tonight, that I can't afford to spend another moment doing anything else!" At that, Daisuke retreated from the room.  

 

"Get back here, you coward! I change her diapers all day, you should take charge of your daughter for once! Daisuke!"

 

Out of sight of her parents, Haru smirked.

 

*************Two Years Old**************

 

Ethel always knew she was going to hell.

 

Maybe it was that time she accidentally (on purpose) goaded her husband into crashing their Ford into the main structure of a hippie commune. Dirty, stinking hippies.

 

Maybe she accepted she was going to hell when she escalated from verbally attacking, to throwing her shoes, to beating the damn Weaver boy with a broom whenever he kept landing his football in her flower patches. Well, he deserved it. Her pansies were fragile.

 

But she knew the final straw came when she disowned her ungrateful, perverted freak of a daughter when Cheryl tried to say she got married- married, like they allowed such perversities in the Church!- to _that. woman_!

Well. She still loved the girl, but clearly she needed a harsh reality check. Honestly. She didn't raise that girl to throw respectability down the tubes. That Jezebelle must have corrupted her poor, sweet daughter somehow.

 

Anyway, she may not have understood everything at first, but even an old dog like her eventually learned a thing or two.

 

Ethel had been in adult diapers for a couple of years now, so being changed and assisted didn't ring any alarm bells.

 

The aides seemed taller and more blurry, but really, with the drugs that kids had these days she wasn't surprised that they looked like freaks.

 

The random, sudden drop in her attention span and mental acuity probably meant that she was about to croak. Nothing to really concern herself about.

 

Someone had stolen her dentures, but Sterling in the room across the hall was a rotten thief, so new ones were probably on back order or something. Even when her gums started itching and started to sprout teeth, she just scowled and mentally cursed experimental medical procedures. It must have been that woman aide that kept rubbing her gums. Creepy fetishes, but how was she supposed to tell her off for it when she could barely make noise, let alone swear like her darling Donald's Vietnam vet friends had taught her?

 

The feeding now, that was something she only noticed in retrospect; who knew what sort of new-fangled devices they used to keep her old bones alive.

 

It was a very soft liquid dispenser, she'd give them that.

 

Warm, too.

 

Still, she missed her straws. And the cafeteria, of course- not for the conversation, Lord knew that Carrie and JoAnne weren't quite all there anymore, but she would have liked another opportunity to snag some pudding. The creepy aide with the gum fetish tried to sneak her some pudding, but she knew her number- she was going to sue that woman for every penny she had for violating her rights and liquid diet and endangering her! ...despite the fact that it tasted divinely like bananas. Well. Maybe she'd tell her lawyer to sue her gently.

 

At the very least, the change from liquid to solid foods was alright if she could make sure she didn't cough it up like that one time ages ago- those good for nothing doctors kept her gasping for air for _a little too long f_ or them to have not been trying to teach her a lesson. Ha! She'd been a Riveter, and a McCarthyist, and a single mother after her darling Donald died in Vietnam, and they dared to treat her like this?!

 

However, what really made the idea come to mind was the fact that a) her aides kept speaking gibberish ching chong language at her, and b) they kept calling her by that. damn. woman's. name! She made sure to show her displeasure by screeching like a monkey every time they made that mistake. They'd rue the day they crossed Ethel Morgan!

 

Especially since they didn't seem to appreciate good old-fashioned game shows. Heathens. (Although she was secretly fond of the male aide's motorcycle program- it was thrilling, even if it was in gibberish. She approved of the costumes.)

 

It seemed like things were going her way for once, as her vision steadily became less blurry and her muscles became stronger. Her accuracy with unconventional projectiles improved as well. ("Har- ah, I mean, Musume, please stop throwing the silverware!")

 

But for some reason, as her body became stronger, and her mind less feeble (which added some time back to what she unofficially thought of as her death clock), her situation made less and less sense.

 

Long story short, when she saw a fat Asian baby in front of the mirror where a fat, old, white lady should have been, she began to fathom the true horror of her situation.

Clearly hell was made up of nappies, naptime, and a permanent reminder of your mortal enemy/daughter-in-law.

Well, to hell with this- she was getting a name change as soon as legally possible.

 

*******************

_"Please pass me that parenting handbook. I need to smack my kid with it." -Unknown_

 

 

Next Chapter: Acclimating to the Local Culture (Or, Ethel Pledges Allegiance to the Wrong Flag)


	3. Acclimating to the Local Culture (Or, Ethel Pledges Allegiance to the Wrong Flag)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethel adjusts to daily life, which includes loafing around the house and glaring at the local park-stalking pedophile. She is randomly taken to the doctor for a physical, and is offended by loud noises. After being forced to learn how to speak Japanese from her caretakers and speech therapist, she is enrolled at school. Ethel is then faced with an alarming consequence of her actions in her life thus far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Thanks to everyone for giving this a shot! I'd appreciate it if you guys told me what works, what doesn't work, how you think Ethel/Haru is as a protagonist, whether or not I need to keep adding translation notes... basically, feedback is good. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> sensei: a suffix or title given to a professional, usually a doctor or teacher
> 
> yanushi-san: a polite way of saying 'landlord'
> 
> okami-san: a polite and traditional way of saying 'landlady'
> 
> chan: a suffix used on children, cute animals, or girls you know; usually emphasizes  
> cuteness
> 
> mou: a way to express annoyance or frustration; kind of like "jeez" or "argh"
> 
> aa: another way of saying "yeah"/"sure" or an affirmative "mmm".
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Ethel is still a grouchy, homophobic racist. There is a Kamen Rider speech (don't own!). Stuffed animal murder. Condescending attitudes. Inappropriate American patriotism (what is my life that this is a legit warning) and slight bashing of Japanese national anthem. Terrible SnK pun and other anime shout-outs (let me know if you find them, haha). Brief mention of autism.

* * *

 

Chapter 3: Acclimating to the Local Culture (Or, Ethel Pledges Allegiance to the Wrong Flag)

* * *

 

At the age of three, Ethel had a break in her previously monotonous schedule. 

 

Usually, she was given mostly free range of the house. To her sadness, Narnia was not in any of the closets, and the female caretaker tended to chase her out of the kitchen after that one time with the knife. Well, she had her game shows to keep her busy, at least. Sometimes she deigned to watch that weird costumed motorcycle show with the male caretaker as well. 

 

On special days, she was taken to the nearby park. Despite the joys of practically glueing herself to a swing and baring her teeth at those who may have tried to unseat her, those days were slightly tarnished by the obvious pedophile in the glasses and labcoat lurking on a nearby park bench. Although she glared at him from her perch on a swing, his blissful expression as he stared at the little girls was enough to make her want to beat the tar out of him. Usually, by the time she had gotten up the courage to do something, a barely dressed hussy or a tiny salaryman dragged him away. 

 

However, today they were walking in the opposite direction from the park, and she was dressed in a slightly nicer outfit than her play clothes. As her small feet clacked down the road in her white Mary Janes, her attention kept wandering from her brand new light green tights to the new area they were walking in to the soft cotton sleeves of her darker green dress. After giving up on walking, and forcing the female caretaker to haul her around for awhile, she looked up to see that they had arrived at a train station. 

 

The train was quiet, and a great deal cleaner than she was used to. Where was the graffiti? Where were the snot-nosed punks with pens writing on the seats? Where were the food wrappers carelessly thrown on the ground? There weren't even any hobos to sneer at!  

 

For cripes sake, the female caretaker actually wiped off the seat after she tried to stand on it! 

 

So unnatural.  

 

Apparently they were on a journey to see a doctor. She was given the usual temperature check (in her mouth and not anywhere else, _thankyouverymuch_ ), height/weight recording, and so on, but the strange part came after her vitals were taken. The doctor spoke some gibberish to her, and then placed a set of bulky headphones on her. After a few moments of the world being strangely muted, a shrill ringing began blaring in her ears. Ethel ripped off the headphones and glared at the doctor (and the caretaker too, for good measure). 

 

The doctor merely smiled at her, put the headphones back on, and repeated the process. Every time the shrill noise caused her to rip the headphones from her head, he nodded and said something to the caretaker. 

 

After leaving the doctor's office, she wondered what the hell kind of physicals they gave kids in this godforsaken country, and what the point of all of that was.

 

 

 

* * *

 

That night, when Haru was finally asleep, Hitomi broke the good news to Daisuke. 

 

"The doctor said that her hearing is fine- I was so relieved, hahi! Anyway, Tofu-sensei said that if we're really concerned, we can set her up with a speech therapist, but that physically, nothing seems to be wrong with her. Mou, apparently she's just really stubborn about not talking." 

 

Daisuke sighed in relief. "It's good to know that despite her grumpy attitude she's taken after her mother so strongly." 

 

Hitomi retaliated by punching him in the arm.

* * *

 

 

 

Despite her best efforts, Ethel quickly began to learn Japanese (both proper and some Kansai-ben).

 

She wouldn't have exerted herself, content to be waited upon hand and foot by these caretakers until she got a visa and a one-way ticket back to the U.S., but her new caretakers had become strangely immune to her pointing and grunting at what she wanted. Not that she had actually deigned to speak to them yet, but at least she understood what they were saying now when they prompted her: "if you want it, say cookie, musume!" or "say goodnight to okaa-han!" 

 

Her Japanese was also assisted by a new adult coming in to her life. Shortly after the trip to the doctor, Ethel began to see a middle-aged, pink-haired hippie with a rabbit obsession (or, pardon, "Usagi-chan" the stuffed bunny) for an hour multiple times a week. She resisted participating as well as she could, but when she found out that the woman gave her candy after completing her asinine repetition exercises, she quickly complied (she'd almost forgotten what non-sugar-free candy tasted like- it was divine). Her vocabulary and syntax grew in leaps and bounds through the hippie, but she kept tight-lipped around the caretakers until she found the perfect way to refer to them.

 

The female caretaker cried at her first words: yanushi-san and okami-san.

 

The male caretaker (who, clearly, wasn't the brains of this operation) just seemed terribly confused at his new title.

 

Like _hell_ was she calling them mom and dad.

 

* * *

 

 

Ethel's lessons with the whackjob ended as abruptly as they had begun, right before she was about to turn four. 

 

To commemorate the occasion of their last lesson, the hippie whackjob gave her a speech about how proud she was of how much "Miura-chan" (her compromise to avoid a tantrum at the dreaded name) had grown and improved, and (with an ironic smile on her face) a small lecture on how to properly address her parents (who she still referred to as okami-san and yanushi-san months after she reluctantly started speaking to them).

 

As she was about to drift out the front door of the Miura's home, the woman turned around one last time, ruffled Ethel's hair (now a silky brownish-black instead of its previous wiry white/near-baldness), and handed her "Usagi-chan" the stuffed rabbit.  

 

Apparently it was now hers to keep.  

 

Fifteen minutes after the woman was out the door, and okami-san was distracted by cooking dinner, Ethel succeeded in murdering Usagi-chan through a vigorous application of craft scissors and single-minded determination. While it was hard to bathe in the blood of her enemy when the blood was actually stuffing, she made do.

 

She'd never forget her darling Donald's lessons on how to properly shank someone, after all. 

 

When yanushi-san came home from work and saw the mess she had made, as well as the violence of the scene, he stared at her through his small glasses with a confused frown on his face. 

 

"Musume, why did you feel it was necessary to do this?" 

 

Thinking quickly, Ethel stood imperiously next to the annihilated toy, held a hand toward the ceiling, and dramatically recited, "The heavens call... The earth cries out... The crowds roar... All calling on me to strike back against evil. Now listen up, villains! I am the warrior of justice, Kamen Rider Stronger!" 

 

A wobbly smile appeared on his face and tears started pouring down his cheeks. After a sniffle, he gave her a thumbs up and said, "That's my baby girl!" 

 

Okami-san chose that moment to walk into the room. "Darling, musume, dinner is- _what in god's name happened in here, hahi!_ "

 

* * *

 

  
Shortly after Usagi-chan's justified murder, and with only a few weeks before her new birthday, Ethel found herself yet again bundled up in a cute, green outfit. 

 

As she and okami-san walked down the street, she idly wondered why the woman kept dressing her in green outfits. Didn't girls usually wear pink or purple? -She didn't necessarily have a problem with green, especially since she associated the color with her darling Donald's army uniforms, but she would have preferred purple. Maybe she could demand a new wardrobe from okami-san?  

 

"We're here!" 

 

Ethel looked around and noticed a small building with a playground attached. She came to the logical conclusion.  

 

"School?"  

 

Nodding, okami-san gently tugged her in the direction of the building's front door. "Mm, musume is so smart! Starting today, musume is going to preschool!" As they walked in the building, okami-san continued babbling. "Otou-han wanted to put you in nursery school, but I think that having more lessons and less play time would be better for your growth! Also, it's only four hours a day, so you can spend more time at home with okaa-han! Isn't that great, musume?" 

 

"...aa," she finally replied, after a long, awkward pause. 

 

She didn't really get what the difference between a nursery school and a preschool was... oh, botheration. School was school. It'd been more than seventy-five years since she'd been in a classroom, but really, how much could have changed? 

 

Finally, they arrived, not a classroom like she expected, but right outside of a small gym that had a small section of seats for adults, and a group of children standing closer to where a podium was set up. More kids were waiting outside with what was obviously a teacher. The fact that all of them were wearing identical green outfits probably meant that she'd have to start hating her own clothes on principle, now. 

 

"Okaa-han is going inside, but musume needs to stay here, okay? -Listen to sensei!" With a cheerful wave, okami-san left her to mercies of the horde of uniformed Asian toddlers.  

 

She squinted her eyes at them. One of them waved shyly at her (she couldn't tell the gender- may as well call the thing 'it'), and another seemed fascinated with putting his fingers in his mouth and then pulling them out again. A few were lightly chatting amongst themselves.   

 

She wasn't born yesterday- she wasn't fooled by this faux innocence.

 

Ethel mentally prepared herself for the pack of wild animals; hooligans like these were like as not ready to rip her to pieces the moment she let her guard down.

 

She made the universal signal for I've got my eyes on you and turned her back on them.  

 

A light tap on her shoulder caused her to jump and spin back around with her teeth bared.  

 

"Miura Haru-chan?" the extremely young female teacher said to her with an obnoxious smile.  

 

Ethel hissed. "Don't call me that!" 

 

Damn whippersnappers. She'd teach this hussy a thing or two. 

 

The teacher's smile wavered at her hostility, and then shone twice as brightly. "A-ah, well, I suppose I can call you Miura-san until we're better acquainted, but I hope to be friends with everyone soon! You're a very formal girl, Miura-san!" She bowed slightly. "I'm Tanizaki Yukari, but please call me Yukari-sensei! I look forward to a good year with you!"  

 

I look forward to attending your funeral, you misbegotten son of a whore, Ethel thought viciously. Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because the teacher quickly backed up a step.  

 

"A-ahaha, um, for the opening ceremony, we will walk in single-file, in order of names, and then stand in rows by the squares on the floor. Miura-san will be near the middle of the group! Um, please make sure to pay attention once we're inside!" Speech delivered, Yukari-sensei retreated back to the spawn taking up space in the hallway. Two of them now appeared to be playing with each others' hair. 

 

After a moment, another lady poked her head out into the hallway and said, "It's time!" 

 

The kids all shuffled together into a line, and Ethel halfheartedly tried to figure out where she was supposed to stand. Finally ready, they all began walking into the gym. 

 

The crowd inside applauded. 

 

_Are they serious?_ Ethel wondered. Really, what kind of standards were they held to, that they were being congratulated for walking into a room?  

 

After a few more minutes of lining up into rows, the hall finally quieted down from the clapping. Ethel peeked around, and saw that the kids were perfectly ordered. The lines were exact, from a horizontal, vertical, hell, even a diagonal point of view.  

 

Ethel didn't know if she approved of the orderliness or was upset at being told to conform. 

 

A gaunt, ugly, mouth-breathing man walked up to the podium's microphone and cleared his throat. "Good morning, welcome to Warumaria Yochien. My name is Kimura-" 

 

Ethel hated speeches, especially those that were pointless ego-boosts. To kill time, she decided to start counting how many kids had bowl-cut hairstyles.

 

"-and now a speech from Kirigaya Yui, a student from Blue class-" 

 

Ten, eleven, twelve, thir- no, that one had no bangs in front so...Twelve. There were twelve, genderless kids that had that godawful hairstyle.

 

"-and now, let us join together as a school community to sing our national anthem."

 

This, she could do. 

 

Halfway through singing the line "were so gallantly streaming", she realized that a) her classmates were giving her weird looks, b) the teachers and some parents were glaring at her, and c) why were they singing some sort of song about pebbles and boulders and moss?

 

Then she remembered that she was staring at a white flag with a red dot on it, instead of the stars and stripes. 

 

_Go big or go home_ , she thought to herself. She shrilled the last few bars of the song, and then shouted, "America! Fuck yeah!" in English. 

 

No one else in the room seemed amused. 

 

Her school career was off to a great start.

 

* * *

 

  
Since the school didn't have janitors, they enacted child labor in order to clean. For her little stunt during the opening ceremony, Ethel was sentenced to extra cleaning duties for the next month.  

 

She made sure to hum the American national anthem extra loudly whenever she was near a teacher.  

 

She also decorated her name tag and desk with crudely-drawn American flags, as well as the best versions of bald eagles and the Statue of Liberty that her pudgy hands could manage. 

 

She couldn't wait for the day that she could start knitting a flag to bring with her to class.  

* * *

 

  
Due to the sudden increase in people that she now interacted with on a daily basis, the issue of her name popped up more frequently. 

 

Yukari-sensei seemed willing enough to accommodate her, and called her Miura-chan, but some of her fluffy-headed classmates weren't as intelligent. They didn't quite grasp that she was fully willing to maul them if they called her by _that woman's_ name.   

 

Granted, most of them still spoke with lisps and in the third person, but not everyone could be as amazing as she was. Or reincarnated, she idly supposed.  

 

The sixth time she made a classmate cry when she yelled at them for calling her by that woman's name, her parents were called in to conference with Yukari-sensei.  

 

"Miura-chan is having some problems in interacting with her classmates," Yukari-sensei bluntly stated, after the introductions and pleasantries were finished. All four of them, yanushi-san, okami-san, sensei, and herself were squeezed at one of the small tables in the classroom.  

 

Yanushi-san gave her what she supposed was a reproving look, while okami-san focused on the teacher. "What sorts of problems?"  

 

"Well, Miura-chan is very independent, and doesn't really play with the others during free time," Yukari-sensei (the traitor) began. "She doesn't like working on assignments with others, doesn't really talk to them unless they approach her first, and she... erm..." Yukari-sensei paused, visibly trying to figure out how to put it tactfully. "...she doesn't quite like anyone using her personal name. Actually, she reacts fairly violently to being called by it." Another pause. "I don't think Shinobu-chan has even looked at your daughter since doing it."  

 

Ethel could feel the judgement coming strongly from yanushi-san and okami-san.  

 

She smiled brightly at them, making sure to flash her dimple.  

 

"...Miura-chan, would you like to go and draw for a bit? -We just need to discuss some boring details, I'm sure it wouldn't be interesting for you."  

 

Ethel considered her options. On the one hand, she was nosy and they were probably going to talk about her. On the other hand, if she sat close enough, she could do her best to overhear what they felt was inappropriate for her to hear without them being on their guard.  

 

Decision made, she nodded in their general direction, and took off for the bin that held the fat markers and construction paper.  

 

In the distance, she could hear snatches of conversation.

 

"-delayed speech-"

 

"-doesn't really make eye contact-" 

 

"-has trouble interacting with her peers-"

 

"-limited and unusual interests-"

 

"-doesn't respond to her name-"

 

"-lack of empathy-"

 

"-I think you may want to get her tested for Autism."

 

The paper in her hands suddenly ripped in half.

* * *

 

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.  
-Lily Tomlin

* * *

* * *

 

Next chapter: Proving Your Innocence (Or, Ethel versus Bureaucracy)


	4. Proving Your Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethel tries (and tries, and tries again) to get her name changed. She undergoes testing for autism, and wins a prize. She provides a motivational, life-changing speech to impressionable brats. 
> 
> Oh yeah, and she also commits her first murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Character death, callous reaction to death, mentions of autism, children being manipulative, and angst. Ethel is Ethel, and is still a rude, racist, homophobic jerk. 
> 
>  
> 
> Notes: Sorry for how long this chapter is, but I really wanted to get through the pre-chaos arc. I had a lot to set up (and actually cut out a lot, in favor of adding flashbacks in future chapters), so hopefully the future payoffs make sense. 
> 
> That being said, Daily Life Arc starts next chapter!
> 
> I'm fairly excited, but also nervous- is that weird? Anyway, we finally meet a few canon characters in this chapter! I'm curious as to what people think will be twisting the canon characters, as there will be major changes to a lot of them (due to the ripple effect). I'll give you a hint: only one Vongola Guardian is (relatively) unchanged from cannon, and it won't be Mukuro. 
> 
> Thank you all so much- I appreciate your kudos and views! If you can, please leave a review saying what I've done well, and what I need to improve on!
> 
> Cultural note: Quiz Grand Prix was the Japanese version of Jeopardy. It only aired for ten years or so, with it ending in 1980.

* * *

 

**Chapter Four: Proving Your Innocence (Or, Ethel versus Bureaucracy)**

* * *

 

 

 Ethel had two major projects that were fairly urgent.

The first project was, as ever, to somehow change her name. At this point, she had almost given up on being called by her real name. After a few trial runs (adults and idiot children on the playground), it turned out that these backwater hicks pronounced her name as something like "E-se-ru." Not an insurmountable hurdle, but then she started writing it out in one of the scribble gibberish alphabets (as if a single alphabet wasn't enough for these people!) to see what it would look like.

Needless to say, it was not suitable.

 

Like hell was her new name going to read as "emulate food."

 

Even though that was a bust, she still hadn't given up hope on being called something sensible. Like... Jane. Or Bertha. That was a nice, sturdy name.

 

During one of her darker moments, she'd investigated Japanese names. As in, actual ones, and not just her trying to not punch a wall when they dropped an 'r' and added an 'l'. She felt like the names Emi, Ana, Kira, Mari, and Rina could be tolerable, since she could at least pretend that they were just slightly colorful American names.

Actually, she was grudgingly fond of the name Kira. She felt that, despite its Japanese origin, she could accomplish great and terrible things with that name.

However, if her caretakers were stuck on names with those two damned syllables in it, then she could... compromise... with Haruhi (and go by Ruhi or Rue), Harumi (and insist being called Rumi), Haruna (a.k.a. Runa), or Haruyo (...Yoyo-chan didn't sound that bad in comparison to an eternity of answering to that woman's name).

 

She was getting ahead of herself though. The names, at this point in time, were immaterial. What she needed was information on how the local bureaucrats could be bribed.

 

Actually, she also needed proper materials in which to bribe said officials.

 

Then she could bribe them.

 

Her habit of pinching the coin-dollar-yin things from okami-san's purse and yanushi-san's trouser pockets may get her enough money to keep her comfortably supplied with candy and sugary drinks, but it would not suffice to push through extra paperwork on her behalf or to make them turn their eyes away from her wreaking hell on her new birth certificate.

 

Practicality aside, she could dream, at least. Once she had the support of another individual, she could then launch a two-pronged attack on her caretakers. Much the Axis in World War II when she was a child, her caretakers would easily crumble beneath the might of two powerful figures waging psychological warfare upon them. (In this scenario, she was obviously General Patton leading the American and French soldiers into freeing the loveable but religiously-misguided Jews from those terrible camps... and the bureaucrat could be that communist wasteland ally of theirs, the U-S-Soviet-Russia-whatever it was calling itself nowadays, being their meat shields).

So. Step one: gather some intelligence.

 

Step two: abuse that knowledge for her greater good.  

 

Step three: revel in the success of a great plan by a great lady.

* * *

 

 

 

 The second project, now, that one was going to be easy. Despite its simplicity, it still needed to be put into action quickly though.

 

She just needed to pass whatever cockaminny psycho mumbo jumbo test the school planned to give her in response to that dratted teacher's idea that she was touched in the head. (Or whatever "autistic" meant.)

 

Please. She was perfect the way she was.

And if they couldn't handle that? -Well, she'd just do the same to them as she did to Ruth Keller when she was about to win the 1978 Neighborhood Pie Contest.

 

Destroy them. Financially, politically, socially, and emotionally.

 

And maybe a tiny bit physically as well, to make sure they got the message.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Ethel was able to enact Phase One of her first project on a bright and cheerful day after school ended.

 

Unlike the first day, when okami-san walked with her to school, Yukari-sensei walked the entire class home (as well as picked them up in the morning- what a way to enable lazy parents!). Sensei was even holding a small, triangular flag, which... why did she even bother? -It was like she believed the brats were too dumb to recognize her outside of the classroom and needed a bright visual cue to keep their attention on her. Also, it made her look like a tour guide for midgets. No wonder the woman was single.

 

Thankfully, the woman was also easily distracted by keeping the whole group from wandering off to catch butterflies or jump in puddles or do any of the other moronic, childish things they were prone to doing. When Yukari-sensei and the rest of the group dropped her off at the gates of her house, Ethel pretended to walk inside, waited for the group to be out of sight, and then ran off in the opposite direction down the street.

 

According to her reconnaissance during market trips with okami-san, the local government building was only fifteen minutes away if she walked briskly. She got a few stares from the locals, which she assumed were due to her physical age. Since she was walking with purpose, however, they mostly seemed content to leave her to her own business. One shop-keeper tried to call out to her, but she ignored him with the experience of pretending to be deaf for the last ten years of her previous life.

 

Finally, after her short, fat legs could almost take no more, she saw the building a block down.

 

Bursting through those front doors like a white-hat hero from a country western show gave her a thrill, just like every time the judges in her past life had stared at her flowerbeds and compared them to her neighbors in the annual neighborhood gardening competition. ...And she'd never lost a damn single one of those contests that she'd registered for. (And some of the ones she hadn't even entered.)

 

She marched herself up to the front counter, where the secretary (never mind that her name plate said "County Clerk") was buried in a book, and clearly neglecting her work. Ethel slammed her hand on the woman's desk with enough force to cause papers to go flying around the room.

The secretary let out a high-pitched squeak of distress at the papers, but then, at catching sight of her, switched into a pseudo-sweet, condescending, "oh the widdle baby~" smile. If Ethel didn't need to keep a poker face, then she'd be baring her teeth at the woman and cooing, _Oh, the bimbo secretary in her tight clothes and probably sleeping with her boss~._

 

"I'm here to see the person in charge of names and records. Or whatever you people have that's equivalent to the Births, Deaths, and Marriage Department," Ethel commanded her (and bit her tongue lightly when she wanted to add an insult afterwards).

 

"Un, may I ask for your name?" the secretary asked after blinking and adjusting her glasses.

 

"Miura," she tried to say bitingly. To her displeasure, it came out more like she was "nyan"-ing her name.

The secretary's eyes started to sparkle. "So cute," she whispered.

 

"What?" Ethel growled, glaring at the woman.

 

"A-haha, you remind me very much of my previous partner, Makuhari Nancy- she was a very sweet person, but was a bit gruff, just like you! Oh, I was so sad when she died, but then it was almost like she hadn't when I found out that she had a clo- I mean twin! Ahaha, I mean, Miura-chan seems both cool and cute, just like Nancy was! And- um- that is- I mean- "

 

Ethel was not impressed.

 

This is the opposition she had been psyching herself up for?

 

The woman continued to rile herself up for another minute or so, frantically twirling the only section of her long, dark hair that was braided (and was that hair tie made out of paper?). The atmosphere was so flustered that it almost seemed like the neglected paper on the floor was moving! Ethel couldn't tolerate this anymore.

 

"Lady. Just. Shut up."

The woman stopped babbling and stared at her with wide brown eyes.

 

"I need to talk to someone about legally changing a name. Not hear your life story, as _fascinating_ as that seems to be," she drawled sarcastically.

 

The woman, oddly enough, started tearing up. Before Ethel could slap her (literally) out of it, the woman squeaked, "I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, but, but, Joka-san is out of the office today~."  The last word spun into a wail as tears started to fall.

 

Ethel gave up and walked out of the office.

 

On the way home, she binged on lemon candy drops until she ended up puking in one of her neighbors' bushes.

 

It tasted like defeat and acid burn. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, it took her five whole minutes to pry out of that insipid secretary woman's babbling that the man she needed to see, that Joe-Ka-Ka what the hell ever, was in a department meeting that would take at least until the end of the work day.

 

She made sure to slam the door shut on the way out.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was a day off from school. Considering she was still a small child, she couldn't exactly waltz out the front door without okami-san noticing and possibly interfering.

 

She sulked, and drew countless pictures of that secretary woman being torn apart by sharks and Nazis.   

 

Okami-san absent-mindedly put one of the pictures on the fridge and said she liked the colors. 

* * *

 

This was her third time heading to the office. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

 

Today was apparently the day that she was to be tested for that mind disease thing. The whole thing put her in a sour mood, not only because they dared to presume that she was in any way flawed, but also because they were interfering with her efforts to discreetly get a name change.

 

Honestly, what sort of idiot would get these questions and scenarios wrong?

 

Yes, she was able to tell the difference between a happy face and a sad face.

 

Yes, she was able to count, identify shapes, and use logic to solve puzzles.

 

Yes, if you shine a bright light in her face she will end you.

 

Yes, if you randomly fill her headphones with loud noises she will claw at your face. 

 

Yes, she was far superior to the other child in the room and didn't need to talk to her. And, if it was required for the exam, she would talk about the things she liked, not that nonsense about sticking to what was on the worksheet, or letting the other girl pick the topic sometimes. Or ever.

 

No, she did not want to play pretend with you. What would be the point?

 

No, she was not going to engage in another useless conversation. Actually, she was just going to ignore any social cues to speak. Because she didn't feel like it. So ha.

 

She felt like she aced this exam, which almost made up for the fact that she had been trying to focus on Project One. Well, at least Project Two was over and done with.

 

She ignored the doctors that were conferring with okami-san and yanushi-san. If she hadn't, then she would have seen the temporarily crushed look on okami-san's face and the world-weary sigh from yanushi-san.

 

* * *

 

 

 The actual third time Ethel walked up to the office for a name change, the building seemed a bit busier than it had been the previous times. There were also a lot more children.

 

She made sure to wipe her hands on her skirt and then sanitize her hands with the small gel in her backpack. Filthy, disease-carrying brats.

 

As she walked up to the line in front of that bimbo of a secretary's desk, she passed the time envisioning what name she was going to forge onto her birth certificate. With all of the blackmail material the woman spouted out during her ramblings, she was certain she could con the secretary into giving her access to her new birth certificate. Granted, she'd still have to deal with having that woman's name, but at least it wouldn't be as terrible. She could probably fit "hi" or "mi" onto the end of the "haru" without any difficulty.

 

"Next!" She walked up to the secretary's desk, and before she could even open her mouth, was handed a ticket of some sort.

 

"You're just in time, Miura-chan! There's only five more minutes before the end of the raffle! If you'd like, please help yourself to the refreshments on the side table while you wait~!" The woman smiled at her distractedly and then said, "Next!"

 

What.

 

"You don't understand, I'm not here for-" she tried to say, but the secretary was already deep in conversation with the next adult. She was about to give the two of them the greatest verbal beat-down of their lives when she noticed all of the items on the refreshment table.

 

Macarons. Coffee. Cookies. Cake.

 

The only thing that was really missing was pudding, but it had been so long since she'd had a proper piece of cake!

 

Well. Don't mind her, she'd get her revenge as soon as she'd emptied that table of its treasures.

 

Besides, she didn't think she'd be heard over the middle-aged man's enthusiastic cries of, "Extreme!"

She nibbled her oatmeal raisin cookie contentedly. Now _this_ was an appropriate snack food. Not that vile rice cracker thing okami-san tried to get her to eat, or those fruit pieces that sensei gave the class at snack time. She had just noticed Shinobu-chan from class- the spineless brat was already cowering in fear- and was prepared to glare at the brat when she heard a loud voice shout practically in her ear.

 

"These cookies are disgusting to the extreme!"

 

She turned to look at a young boy with hair light enough to be called white or grey. He was waving a cookie (which was not disgusting, _thankyouverymuch_!) around at an even younger girl's face, who seemed used to his antics. Extreme? She stared at the middle-aged man, now boxing at empty air while ranting about something and ignoring the panicked secretary. Then she stared at the boy.

 

Huh. Must be related.

 

She wondered if she'd met either of them before. The boy in particular was ringing a harsh bell in the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite remember... he wasn't in her preschool class... he didn't live on her block... and why did the phrase "extreme" seem so familiar? Her musings were interrupted by an announcement.

 

"May I have your attention, please? -We are about to draw the winning lottery tickets!" This announcement came from a different middle-aged man, dressed in an obviously tailored suit. He was attractive enough, mused Ethel, if you liked poisonous snakes that pretended to be hamsters.

 

"Let us first give a round of applause for all of our sponsors, including Ja-Pan Bakery for providing third place prize, as well as our refreshment table! Takesushi for providing our second place prize! And Sakamoto Travel Agency for our grand prize!"

 

A firm but polite applause followed.

 

"The winner of the third place prize goes to the ticket 3387!"

 

The boxing man and the boy both punched the air and yelled, "Extreme!" while the girl gave a sunny smile. Ethel frowned at the girl's smile, as that seemed to be familiar to her as well. Who the hell _were_ these people?

 

"The winner of the second place prize goes to the ticket 7995!" A pale-haired gentleman in a yukata and glasses came up to claim the prize. Despite the gentle smile on his face, she couldn't help but feel unnerved by him.

 

"And the winner of the grand prize... is..." Well, oddly familiar people or not, she hoped that they would end all of this nonsense so she could get around to blackmailing the secretary sooner. "...8672!"

 

What.

 

She looked down at her ticket again.   _8672_.  _  
_

 

...So. Apparently she had just won something.

 

She walked up to the front to claim her prize. Granted, she didn't know what it was, but since she won it, it was going to be hers. Also, it was appropriate that the prize she had just won was the grand prize.

 

The man at the front handed her an envelope. "Congratulations! You've just won three tickets to Tokyo Disneyland!" She felt an involuntary smirk take over her face. Disney, eh? -That was fun. While this trip to the Tokyo location would naturally be inferior to the one time she took her daughter to the Disney in Orlando (after all, it was a cheap knock-off of an American theme park), it might still be amusing.

 

She allowed herself to mingle and celebrate with the other people in the room (i.e. people-watching and glaring at Shinobu-chan), making sure to grab a sweet every time she emptied her plate.

 

She made sure to stay out of the way of the creepy yukata man and those oddly familiar children.  

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't until she was halfway home that she realized that in her self-thrown victory party she'd forgotten to blackmail the secretary into looking at her birth certificate. Curses. 

 

* * *

 

 

Apparently, fourth time was the charm.

 

Before heading in, she did a small amount of research into the bimbo's ramblings. Apparently, this Makuhari gal had died in... less than believable circumstances. Add in the fact that a large amount of weirdly folded paper was at the scene of the crime, and that the bimbo had mentioned something about a clone... well, it looked like she didn't even need money to bribe an official now. Blackmail would do nicely.

 

(She was choosing to ignore the clone thing. It was a miracle to her how science had evolved enough to supposedly create clones, but was still unable to create popcorn that didn't burn in the microwave.)

 

The bimbo secretary easily folded beneath her vague threats to reveal the true circumstances of Makuhari's mysterious death, the existence of the clone, and finished by calling her "Paper-chan."

 

Her birth certificate now read that she was Miura Harumi.

 

The blubbering secretary promised to change her educational records to match it as well.

 

That day, after indulging again in too many lemon drops, her projectile vomit into the neighbor's bushes tasted like victory.

 

And also acid burn.

 

But mostly victory.

 

* * *

 

 

Even if the Miura adults had taken the news of the free Tokyo Disney travel package with their version of poised anticipation (read: yanushi-san had shrieked high and loud enough to cause the neighbor's dog to start barking, and okami-san had fainted with a beet red face and a goofy smile), they didn't seem to question why she was at the local government office.

 

She wondered if they were truly that naive.

 

Well, even so, clearly okami-san and yanushi-san were behind the times in her new name- otherwise they wouldn't have tried pulling this malarkey.

 

"I know you didn't like Usagi-chan for... what may have been understandable reasons but... well, this one is Haru-no-Haru!"

 

She stared blankly at the stuffed bunny. Its lifeless button eyes stared back at her.

 

"I'm not certain why you don't like your name, but-" Yanushi-san started saying.

 

She interrupted, "Because it's the name of the person I despise the most in this world." 

 

Okami-san gave her a mild frown before smiling and ruffling her hair. "So serious, musume! Let me tell you a secret!" She pulled the small child closer to her and whispered loudly, "The best revenge is to live well! And then, when you see them, kill them with kindness, hahi!"

 

"Is that what you call what you did to Saito-san?"  Yanushi-san softly drawled.

 

"Shut up, hahi! That witch had it coming!" Okami-san immediately countered. Then she looked down at her daughter and corrected, "Well, sometimes the best thing we can do is... to try to be kind." At this, she shot a brief glare at her husband, and then continued lecturing her daughter. "Maybe, if you make great memories with Haru-no-Haru, your bad memories of the other Haru will go away! Far away! And then you can respond to your name~!" She ended her speech by lifting the girl up and doing an impromptu twirl.

 

After being placed on the ground, Ethel stared at the (physically) older couple, and then at the stuffed animal.

 

_Talking to this poorly-made, anthropomorphized rabbit named "Haru's Haru" is supposed to make me feel better about my daughter, the light and joy of my life after my darling Donald, turning her back on me and the Church and consigning herself to an eternity of burning in hell due to that conniving, perverted, ugly, selfish, headstrong, useless waste of space? And the fact that she is raising my grandson, my own flesh and blood, to think that kind of perversion is alright?!_

 

She placed the bunny on the ground and promptly punched it in the face.

 

At the shocked look on the couples' faces, she mildly intoned, "That's my kind of therapy."

 

For good measure, she kicked it into a wall, and then sauntered out of the room.

 

If she had stayed longer, she would have seen the slightly guilty looks on their faces, and heard Daisuke say that they may as well sign her up for the group therapy sessions that the counselor suggested.

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily, the travel package was flexible enough to be redeemed at their convenience. Hitomi and Daisuke planned to check in at the last possible moment, just in case a situation at work popped up or an emergency prevented them from going. This proved to be a wise decision, although not for a reason they could have anticipated.

 

Two days before they planned to redeem their tickets, Hitomi approached her daughter with a stack of papers in hand.

 

"Musume, may I have a word with you?" Ethel looked up at the woman, saw her barely-reigned in anger- or was it annoyance? -and turned back to the Quiz Grand Prix rerun and turned up the volume.

 

 

Hitomi stomped over to the girl and snatched away the remote. The t.v. was swiftly turned off.

 

"Oi! I was watching that!" Ethel complained.

 

Hitomi snarled back. "Musume! Would you just listen to me for a single second, hahi!" 

 

Ethel narrowed her eyes, and then dismissively sniffed at her. 

 

Hitomi ignored the small slight, and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay." She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "...okay." She opened her eyes. "When were you going to tell us that you had somehow legally changed your name, despite the fact that you need parental permission to do so?"

 

Ethel blanched. It wasn't a part of the plan for them to find out this early! What was she going to do?! 

 

Before Ethel could react or bluff, Hitomi continued, "I went to go get our travel papers in order, and what do I find at the government office but Yomiko-san giving me a messed-up version of your birth certificate! Musume..." she narrowed her eyes at the girl. "... as far as I remember, your father and I named you 'Haru.' Why, then, does it say 'Harumi' on your birth certificate, hahi?!"

 

Ethel stayed as silent as the fifth amendment that didn't exist in that country recommended.

 

"And it's not like we didn't just notice a mistake, since it said 'Haru' when we signed you up for school!" Hitomi continued shouting.

 

Although she usually lacked respect for this woman, Ethel was cowed despite herself. Her hands tightly clenched the material of her seafoam green shirt and she gritted her teeth, planning on enduring this lecture with as much dignity as she could muster.

 

"Well?! I'm waiting, hahi!" Hitomi shrieked, face flushed with rage.

 

Although not a particularly tall woman, she suddenly seemed to loom over Ethel, causing her to feel... well. Forget dignity. She hadn't been this scared... no, petrified, since one of her darling Donald's army comrades had copped a feel, and then tried to go further with her against her will. In that case, thankfully Donald had heard her cries for help and had beaten the man to an inch of his life, but there was no one nearby to hear her yell.

 

Given the usual antics of their household, the neighbors had been trained not to react unless something exploded. So if shouting for help wouldn't do anything... she had to escape. Maybe if she locked herself in her room...? 

 

Ethel was never one to fail to listen to her instincts- considering the fact that she would most certainly lose in a fight against the older woman, she decided to run away until she calmed down.  

 

"Get back here, hahi!"

 

Ethel had underestimated Hitomi's speed- the woman caught up to her near the top of the staircase. In an attempt to get the woman's clawed hand off of her wrist, she wrenched her arm away and twisted her body downwards and backwards. Ethel smirked in victory when she felt the woman let go. However, before she could double back and continue her escape, she heard a few loud thuds, and then a wet *snap*.

 

Ethel stared down the stairs.

 

Hitomi's motionless body was sprawled unnaturally at the bottom.

 

* * *

 

 

It took her fifteen minutes to stop trying to call 911, and to instead run and get help from a neighbor. 

 

The neighbor promptly called 119 and requested an ambulance.  

 

* * *

 

 

 

The paramedics wouldn't allow her into the ambulance until she showed them her slightly bruised arm and started calling okami-san 'okaa-san.' Even then, it had been difficult to convince them to not leave her with the neighbor.

 

For the most part, she curled up into a ball and tried to make the ambulance workers forget she existed, and tried to not think about the fact that none of them were concerned about okam- ...okaa-san, or tried to stabilize or medically treat her.

 

(She ignored the fact that they took photographs of the scene, outlined the body in chalk, and then removed all of her personal effects before loading her into the ambulance.)

 

A small, insistent part of her mind mused at how interesting it was to ride in an ambulance, and was just barely able to refrain from asking if she could turn on the sirens.

 

* * *

 

 

The EMT team separated her from ...okaa-san's... body when they got to the hospital.

 

She couldn't ignore the fact that the woman was dead when, twenty minutes after they arrived, yanushi-san suddenly appeared in the waiting room and held her tightly.

 

The soft, shuddering snuffles into her shoulder convinced her of the prognosis more than anything else so far.

 

* * *

 

 

As yanushi-san went to speak to the doctors about ... whatever medical arrangements were appropriate to make for a dead body... she drifted away from the waiting room and began wandering around the hospital corridors.

 

Well... shit. Okami-san just died. Because of her. Who was going to take care of her now?  

 

....would yanushi-san blame her for okami-san's death?

 

...well, either way, yanushi-san was going to be useless for awhile. She remembered what it was like to get that letter in the mail saying that her darling Donald, a career military man, had died overseas in Vietnam. She'd baked random confections and foodstuffs for two days straight, passed out on the kitchen floor, and then sobbed into his house robe for the longest crying jag of her life. Only her baby girl had kept her from wasting away in grief. (Thankfully, one of her nosy busybody neighbors had taken care of the girl during her mania. Cheryl would probably have died from neglect otherwise.)

 

She still missed him.

 

She would never stop missing him.

 

Yanushi-san... would probably always miss okami-san, as well.

 

She wouldn't begrudge him his grieving. Not that she'd really miss okami-san, she personally found her to be insipid and childish, but she at least respected the woman. ...well, a little. Sometimes. When she actually did something worth respecting. Which... wasn't often.

 

Anyway, nobody had ever said that she wasn't a dutiful woman. She'd do what she could to ease yanushi-san's pain and help keep him from collapsing from grief. That was her job as the man's daughter, however odd it felt to refer to herself as such.

 

And if she felt a microscopic pang of grief at the woman's absence, then... well, it wasn't like she would openly acknowledge it.

 

But honestly! What was with the personality switch? -It wasn't her fault that okami-san had decided to have a psychotic episode! If the woman had just allowed the name change to pass like she should have, then she wouldn't be dead! It was a single Asian character- a couple of American letters- how big of a difference did it make to have that one, tiny change? Did that woman's name really mean that much to her?!

 

Suddenly infuriated, she spied a small crowd of people in various states of injury, as well as a few empty chairs. Kicking things always made her feel better.

 

As she approached a particularly shoddy chair, fully intent on imbedding its soon-to-be-broken shards into the wall, she heard a soft, choked-up child's voice say, "Promise me onii-chan! Promise me you won't fight anymore!"

 

She stopped in the middle of the walkway and stared at the owner of that voice. It was the two kids she had seen at the raffle- the two eerily familiar kids with the odd hair colors.

 

"Why the hell should he do that?" came out of her mouth before she could even blink.

 

The two kids twitched in surprise, although the boy seemed oddly relieved as he stared at her. And was that...? 

 

"What happened to your face?" Ethel asked incredulously. A bold, straight cut was currently stitched together on the boy's eyebrow, and he seemed a bit roughed up, as if he... had been... fighting. 

 

Some questions really _did_ answer themselves.

 

The boy jumped to his feet and said, "Some extremely uncool sempai decided to try to hurt Kyoko, so I did my best to protect her!"

 

"Onii-chan..." the girl started saying, but Ethel interrupted her. "Okay, so, that's what he was doing. But what about you, girl?"

 

The girl frowned in confusion. "U-um, like onii-chan said, a group of sempai was going to hurt me, so onii-chan-"

 

Ethel shook her head. "No, what were you doing? Because it sounds like you just stood there, waiting to be rescued. Did you want to get hurt? Did you want your," and she finger-quoted, "-onii-chan to-"

 

"That's not true!" the girl cried out. A few tears gathered in her eyes, and the boy visibly started panicking. 

 

"K-Kyoko! Please don't cry!"

 

Ethel snorted. "What, why not? It's not like it'll do anything."

 

The girl, apparently named Kyoko, sniffled and stared at Ethel in confusion.

 

"Hey, don't talk to her like that- it's rude to the extreme!" the boy stated loudly, while rudely pointing a finger at her.

 

Kyoko ignored the boy's antics. "B-but what could I have done? They were all bigger and stronger than me! -Stronger even than-"

 

"Well, no wonder you got hurt- you didn't even try to defend yourself!" Ethel walked up to the girl, and grabbed her arms. "In this world, a woman has to be strong. Strong enough to-" 

 

"But I don't like fighting! Fighting is wrong!" she said, at the same time her brother shouted: "Kyoko extremely has me! She doesn't need to fight!  

 

Ethel let go of the girl's arms and crossed her own. "I'm not saying you have to go out and start fights. I'm saying, that it's idiotic to say that you should never fight. People are morons. You need to be able to protect yourself and your loved ones, with your own two hands." She paused. "Or a semi-automatic. Or pepper spray. Or a frying pan..." she trailed off, briefly reminiscing over the various weapons she'd used in her long, colorful life.

 

Kyoko blinked in confusion, and then obviously chose to focus on the beginning part of her speech. She stared at Ethel with wide eyes and murmured, "Fight... to protect?"

 

Shaking herself from her memories, Ethel nodded. "What about soldiers, that protect civilians? What about martial artists that stop thugs from beating people up?"

 

"But those boys only targeted Kyoko because I extremely beat them up earlier to stop them from hurting someone else!" the boy shouted. "I can't fight to protect if it only hurts other people! That makes no sense to the extreme!"

 

Thinking quickly as to something that would shut the kid up and prove her point before the girl decided to go back to being a useless swooning meatsack, Ethel shrugged and blurted out, "What about spies and ninja? -They fight to protect, and their families stay safe."

 

The boy stared at her in awe. "...ninja... don't get people hurt?" 

 

Ignoring the idiocy happening in front of her, she focused again on Kyoko. "Listen, you can be a pacifist as much as you want, as long as it doesn't get other people hurt. That's like starving to death and refusing to eat a meal you're provided just because it has meat and you're a vegetarian. Principles are fine as long as they don't get people killed." She paused and cleared her throat. "I don't know what happened to you two beyond what you've told me, but I'm sure that if you had just known how to protect yourself, your brother may not have gotten those stitches."

 

Kyoko flinched.

 

Ethel was about to drive the point home a bit more (and get that other kid to stop mumbling about extreme ninjas), but at that moment, a nurse hurried into the room. "Miura Haru! Miura Haru! Mi-"

 

Before the woman could mention that name more than necessary, Ethel started striding towards her.

 

"U-um, wait! Miura-san!"

 

She turned around to stare at the kids (ignoring the nurse now marching towards her with a stern frown). Kyoko had a determined look on her face, and the boy was still staring off into the distance mumbling something about being extreme and real men and protecting his family.

 

"Thank you! Thank you for your advice!" She bowed to Ethel.

 

Ethel raised a single eyebrow, before nodding and walking out of the room. The nurse followed her like a kid chasing an ice-cream truck.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignoring the nurse muttering something about condolences and not wandering off, Ethel spared a thought for the two brats she'd left behind. With the cut on his head, the boy looked even more familiar. She had a sudden vision, as if watching a television show in a memory, of a boy in his underthings and fire on his head confessing his love to that Kyoko chit, and of that scarred boy boxing with a kangaroo.

 

Clearly she was having a nervous breakdown as a result of her first murder in this life.

 

Ignoring the sudden deja vu and the odd association with her grandson, she began thinking about what happened with okami... no.

 

She'd just killed the woman. She may as well continue to call her okaa-san. 

 

And... well, what okam- ...okaa-san had said... had merit. The best revenge may very well be to live well. And like she'd told that Kyoko gal, principles were fine as long as you didn't get someone killed. She may not ever like her name but... well, she'd consider it as a dying wish.

 

As much as it pained her to do so... she would... tolerate... being called by that woman's... no. If it was going to be her name, now, then it meant that that woman had stolen her name.

 

So. She was now Miura Haru, and Ethel Morgan, and she was her own person.

 

Now, for more important matters.

 

Like, what did one wear to a Japanese funeral that didn't shout "I just murdered that annoying woman"?

 

* * *

 

 

After the strange and confusing Buddhist funeral rites, which involved something about number of days and burning incense and black robes that made her feel like a mummified witch (which, to be honest, she found a lot more tolerable than the utterly creepy and heartbreaking bone-picking session during the funeral itself), she and ya-... otou-san... tried to find a new normal. 

 

She was trying, at least.

 

Sometimes she found... otou-san... staring at pictures, or the walls, with a bleak look on his face. Sometimes he locked himself in his room for hours. Sometimes he didn't come out for days. Finally, he improved enough that he was either in his room or at work.

 

She kept up the housework and set aside the bills with their gibberish swirly language, and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible.

 

She watched Kamen Rider by herself.

 

But on the rare times that... otou-san... was home from work and came out of his room, and actually looked at her and called her "Haru" ...

 

Well.

 

She didn't ignore him.

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, they planned to take that trip to Tokyo Disney.

 

She sewed up matching black shirts that said, "In Memory of Miura Hitomi." for them to wear.

 

Otou-san cried.

 

* * *

 

 

Paperwork is such a small thing, but it can mean the difference between life and death, vegetarian and non-vegetarian, and other serious matters.

 

In one office, the finalized death certificate was being filed for Miura Hitomi.

 

In another office, Miura Daisuke's signature was added to a pile of forms registering the cancellation of a name change.

 

In a third office, the designation of "Aspergers Syndrome" was added to Miura Haru's educational file, and she was added to a social therapy group.

 

In a fourth office, a young boy hacked into a travel prize group to Tokyo Disney and added himself to the list.

 

And in a fifth office, Sasagawa Kyoko was added to the roster of a mixed martial arts class.

 

The long-reaching effects of some of that paperwork wouldn't be seen for years.

 

* * *

 

 

"I aim at the stars, but sometimes I hit London." -Mort Sahl

 

* * *

* * *

 

Next Chapter: Making Friends (Or, Haru creates alliances and saves the day through sentai programs)


End file.
